Bush Blues

by Sheldon Schmitt

  Lilly was quiet but not meek. She groused at her cousins.

  “I live here too. He is my guest and he is welcome here. If this is a problem for you, we can talk to Appa Niki,” Lilly said.

  Tukok seemed a bit stunned and backed down.

  After Lilly left the room, Niki arose with some difficulty and shook Snow’s hand. Snow took an immediate liking to the man. He could sense wisdom, kindness, and humor in Niki’s presence.

  Niki bore a distinct resemblance to a walrus. That image would always stick in Snow’s mind. Niki’s head had been shaved, but now the hair was about an eighth-inch thick, a mixture of gray and white. His head was very large, and he had a prodigious double chin and large, beefy lips. He was a large man, with distinctly Native features.

  Snow and Niki talked of Togiak and fishing. Snow displayed great deference to Niki. Snow always showed respect to elders, which had gained him a measure of acceptance by the locals, who held elders in great esteem. Niki had heard of the plane crash and subsequent killing of the great brown bear by Snow. He asked about it. Snow took a risk and unbuttoned his pants to show Niki the scar above his thigh.

  Niki put on his glasses and motioned for Snow to come closer to the lamp so he could more closely inspect the scar. Niki had a smile on his lips. He took off his glasses and pulled himself to his feet. Snow shuffled back a step to allow him room. Elder Wasillie then exposed himself to Snow, showing him a series of white scars on his large, surprisingly white ass. The scars were old but still impressive and quite obviously claw marks.

  Snow could not help himself and laughed out loud. Niki pulled his pants back up and they both sat down and chuckled.

  “How you get yours?” asked Snow.

  “Working on the boat. You know, I’m lying down under the boat. On the beach. So I suddenly got whacked. Real big whack, hurt like crazy.”

  “Bear?” asked Snow.

  “Eee! Don’t say why he whack me. Maybe just being bear. I crawl under and waved a stick at him. I had my hammer too,” Niki said, waving his arms and ducking his head a bit to animate the story. “He’s not really that interested anyways! So I did not fight the bear. Just saying hi.” Niki smiled at the last bit. “Not like your bear, I think.”

  “Eee, my bear was definitely interested. He pushed me down from the back,” Snow said. He had later learned that the bear was a boar, a male. “I hoped, you know, he would just go away. But he turned and charged me.” Niki listened intently. “Surprised me that the bear did that.”

  “Eee. Sometimes when they first wake up they’re very hungry and aggressive,” said Niki.

  “I was lucky. I mean, he could have killed me for sure. He took a break and it gave me a chance to get my gun out. Even then, I was lucky; he could have killed me after I shot at him, but he ran off.”

  Snow pulled his chair closer to Niki; they were sitting almost knee to knee by the fireplace in the living room.

  “Have you heard about an ancient elder named Wasillie from Togiak?” asked Snow.

  “Eee! Wasillie in Togiak. Long time ago. A great elder, Motok Wasillie, met the first white men. The white men hunt whale on the big water. Big boat came to Togiak. First white men in Alaska. How do you know about Motok?” Niki looked impressed.

  Snow was fascinated. He told Niki what he had been aching to tell someone since the grizzly attack. “Kinka of the Little People told me about Motok Wasillie and the white whaler.”

  Niki’s eyebrows shot up, causing a wrinkle chain reaction on his forehead. Niki then smiled in a wise way. He rocked back and forth meditatively with his hands on his nose. He lifted his hands to the top of his head and brought them down over his face, rubbing all the way, sounding like sandpaper. This was clearly Niki’s habit when he was thinking.

  Niki told Snow that he never met a Little People, or Enukins, as they were called by the Native people. He had heard the legend of Kinka the Kind. There were many stories of the Little People, and Niki believed them.

  Niki asked if it was really true that Snow met Kinka.

  “I thought it might be a dream. But part of me knew it was real. He saved me. I was in bad shape and cold. Kinka found me after the bear attack and led me to a cabin. He saved me for sure,” said Snow.

  Niki sat back and smiled as he listened to the story. Snow showed the scar on his shoulder and Niki again examined it closely before he said, “You are blessed or very fortunate. It is either very good luck or very bad when someone meets the Little People. The Enukin. They are legend of our tribe. Lots of stories, but no one is sure where Enukin come from.

  “They seem like they are spirit world to me. I mean, from stories I heard, they seem more from spirit world than our world. The way they come and go so easy, so quick,” Niki continued. “There are stories of Enukin helping hunters who have been lost. There are others who say the Little People made them lost. I heard stories that they can help you, but they might trick you, too. I think they are left over from another time.”

  Niki told Snow that he must be a special sort and fortunate. He thought it was a huge omen for Snow. Kinka was the greatest, wisest and kindest of the Little People.

  “You must be good luck!” Niki said.

  Snow and Niki sat for a few minutes, the silence thick with thoughts and meaning.

  The fire in the hearth crackled. Lilly had been watching and listening from the door to the den. She was pretty sneaky when she wanted to be. She could stay silent and immobile for minutes. She could almost disappear. She was very impressed by all this. Not by the talk of the Little People, so much, but by how Niki seemed to connect with and embrace the gussok Snow. She had not seen her grandfather warm up to anyone like this, particularly a non-Native.

  The spell was broken. Snow’s cop sense finally kicked in and he looked over at Lilly. She was wearing forest-green corduroy pants with a colorful, flowered vest over a brilliantly white blouse. Her black hair hung loose, almost to her waist. She had her arms crossed. She was petite, neat and clean. Snow thought she was stunning, and the white shirt and colored vest highlighted her brown skin dramatically.

  She was about to duck away but did not. Instead she looked Snow in the eye. They had a connection, and neither wanted to break it by looking away. This time it was his turn to wryly smile. Instead of being ashamed at being caught, she candidly returned his smile and went back to the kitchen. She added a little pert swish to her backside as she turned.

  Tukok enter the room and consumed much of the light. Whatever cloud of good feeling was in the air instantly evaporated. He asked Snow to help him out at the shed. Snow bowed to Niki, said thank you, and left with Tukok.

  “Come see me again,” Niki said to Snow.

  In the metal shed, Tukok and Pukok confronted Snow. He was caught off guard but quickly girded himself for whatever might come. He knew these two large men were more than a match for him physically. But he thought their intent was to try and frighten him off, as bullies do.

  “What cher doing here? We don’t want you here,” said Tukok with some menace.

  “Not welcome,” said Pukok, with less conviction than Tukok.

  “Not here to cause trouble. I am interested in your cousin Lilly. But I have respect for her, and I respect her family.” Snow spoke calmly. “I also respect the Native ways and know you guys are just trying to protect your cousin. I have good intentions with Lilly. If she asks me to come here again, I will come here again.”

  He displayed no fear to them and hoped they could not smell it on him. He did not want to fight, because he would lose. But he would fight if he had to.

  “You feisty, Snow? Like a schnauzer dog?” Tukok laughed. Snow was unsure if it was humor or derision.

  Tukok was the aggressive one and stepped close to Snow.

  “You hurt her, I hurt you,” Tukok said low and slow. He stepped past Snow, who made room for him. Pukok gave him a look that seemed to indicate that he was not against Snow.

  Snow left the shed just as Lilly came out of t
he house. He said nothing to her about this little confrontation. He knew if he said something to Lilly, who in turn talked to Tukok and Pukok, he would lose face with them.

  “Ready to go?” he asked.

  They had dinner at Miguel’s restaurant, which had old-fashioned red-checkered tablecloths. A lit candle inside a red glass vase sat on each table. The floor was plywood, but the food was good. Even though he felt close to Lilly, the conversation was sparse at dinner. The air was too electric to support small talk.

  When it was over, she gave him a ride to the airport in her dented old red Honda Civic with the spiderweb of cracks on the windshield. That was the fate of all windshields in the bush, with the abundance of rocky roads and the paucity of spare parts.

  She smiled at him before he got on the plane, and his heart melted. She was the most beautiful person he had ever met, and he would endure anything to be with her. He would just figure out a way to win over the twins.

  After he got back to Togiak, Snow drove back to the station and made peace with his coffee mug. He had about half a cup of white-sugared coffee in him when the mayor entered the office.

  Major Moses Moon was a man among men. He had strong Native features, confidence, and the carriage of a man in charge, a man not to be trifled with. He could speak passionately and eloquently as well. This is man destined for the Alaska Senate, thought Snow. He rose and offered Mayor Moses a cup of coffee, which the mayor waved off.

  “Come quick. It’s bad.”

  CHAPTER 6

  THE CRIME

  Mayor Moses wanted to take his vehicle, but Snow insisted. They drove in Snow’s pickup to Bullshit Bob Pollack’s residence. When they got there, they were greeted by a city employee known as Joe the Waterman.

  Joe’s job was to deliver water to people who were not connected to the water and sewer utilities, which was about half the town. Those people had water tanks that they got refilled once or twice a week. For sewage needs they either had a “gray water” tank that got pumped out by the “honey wagon,” or they had a simple honey bucket they emptied themselves.

  Bullshit Bob had the water-tank-and-honey-bucket system. The house was out of town, on the ridge where Snow had admired the caribou earlier. Bullshit Bob shared his home with Buck Nelson, a troublemaker and small-time criminal.

  Bullshit Bob was a friendly drunk who had migrated to Alaska many years ago for a life away from law and order. He was one of those who were a half-bubble off, for sure, but friendly and mostly harmless. The “Bullshit” nickname was hung on him years ago by drinking buddies, because Bob’s stories had a loose relationship with facts.

  Buck Nelson was a different matter. He showed up in Togiak about two years ago. He was a bad seed—everyone knew. Nelson was an outlaw pure and simple. He struck Snow as a predator, and a violent one.

  There were rumors that Buck Nelson kept Bullshit Bob in illegal alcohol and in turn he had access to Bob’s fishing permits. He certainly fished Bob’s permits, but Bob was not complaining—not to Snow anyway. He thought that Nelson was a bully, intimidating people with his bluster and sophisticated ways bred in bigger cities. But there was nothing for Snow to hang his hat on.

  Snow did a criminal history check on Nelson after he heard the bootlegging rumors. He saw that Nelson had a couple arrests: one for assault and one for possession of narcotics. Both had been reduced from felonies to misdemeanors. Snow thought Nelson was destined for more jail time; he had the look.

  Snow disliked Nelson at first sight, which was very unusual for Snow. He usually gave people the benefit of the doubt until they proved otherwise. And it didn’t take Nelson long to do just that.

  Snow remembered the first time he spoke to Nelson. Snow had walked into the AC store to get a few things. He stopped at the big bulletin board at the front to peruse the homemade ads advertising things for sale and the like. Buck Nelson was on the pay phone about five feet away, talking.

  “I know you are fucking trying to listen to me, cop. Why don’t you fucking leave? I was here first,” Nelson hissed at Snow.

  Snow had been taken aback by the outright and open hostility from Nelson, and it instantly raised his blood pressure.

  “I will leave when I’m done looking at the board,” Snow responded evenly, like they were talking about the weather. Snow had learned not to show emotion, anger specifically. It worked to avoid escalating situations but also to send a message to bad guys: Your tough-guy thing is nothing to me. Snow had stood there for several long minutes looking at the board while Nelson had his hand over the phone, giving him the death stare.

  Joe the waterman had arrived at Bullshit Bob’s and opened the trapdoor at the side of the house, opened the tank, and put the hose in the house. Joe began to pump the water. While he was waiting for the tank to fill, he looked inside and saw Bob’s legs raised like he was sitting in a chair. Something about the way he looked gave Joe the willies. Joe could also see what looked like blood on the floor. Joe retracted the water hose, hopped into his truck and called for help on his town radio. The mayor responded and immediately went to get Snow.

  While waiting for help to arrive, Joe knocked on door, but no one answered. He did not know what to do, so he waited. The chief and mayor radioed to make sure someone from the clinic was on the way.

  Once they arrived, Snow found the outside door to the arctic entry—or “cunnychuck”—open, but the inside door was locked tight. Snow went around the house and looked through the dusty window. Mayor Moses stayed with Joe, trying to calm him and get a better account of what he saw.

  The chief saw what Joe had—Bullshit Bob in a recliner, legs up. There were many dark splotches and a large pool on the floor. Joe the Waterman was right. Sure looks like blood.

  Snow went back to the front door. He backed up and gave it his best kick right by the knob. Not like TV at all, he thought. He tried the shoulder but could tell by the sheer immobility of the door and the pain in his shoulder that it was secured by a two-by-four or something similar. This was not uncommon. It was bear country after all. Also, pesky neighbors looking for a stash of hooch were prone to break in, especially when liquored up.

  Snow went around the back. There was no back door. All the windows are up too high to crawl through, he thought as he quickly surveyed the house.

  “Joe, you got a tool? A bar or sledge or something heavy?” Snow called.

  “Eee!” Joe said, which was his way of saying “yes.”

  Joe the Waterman produced a four-foot lead pipe he kept on the back of the battered and dusty old green 500-gallon Ford one-ton along with some chains and various other tools he had found useful over the years. Joe was kind of slow, but he was not stupid. Snow took the lead pipe from Joe and hefted it. Perfect. A big length of pipe was very handy to have around.

  Snow and Moses approached the door. Snow rammed the region of the doorknob, but nothing budged. Damn. Just as he thought, the door was secured with something heavy. He took out the hinges with a few whacks of the pipe and was able to lever the door open a crack, enough to squeeze through at the bottom. When he got in, he knocked the two-by-four out of the homemade wooden U-brackets ten-penny-nailed to the studs around the door. He had a moment of grim satisfaction that he had been right about the two-by-four.

  Snow walked into the main room. As soon as he saw Bullshit Bob’s condition, he told Moses and Joe to stay put. Moses stopped in his tracks as soon as he saw Bob, which was right inside the doorframe. Joe ran into Moses’s back. Moses gave Joe a pretty good shot with his elbow.

  “Jesus, Joe, I ain’t your girlfriend. Back up!” Moses commanded.

  Joe backed off maybe a centimeter while both men continued to look at poor old Bullshit Bob, whose guts were hanging out like an untucked red flannel shirt.

  “Just don’t step in here or touch anything,” Snow told them firmly.

  Snow did a quick check of the house. He took out his sidearm like he was trained to do, but he somehow knew no one was there, and he was right. H
e came back to the living room, which had a bare two-by-six plank floor. Snow told Moses to see if he could raise Stanley Beans and Nasruk Toovak. He was going to need some help.

  “By the way, you can tell the clinic to cancel the call,” Snow hollered with some sarcasm over his shoulder. Like they were in any rush, thought Snow. Sure hope I ain’t dying some day and have to rely on them to save me.

  Moses saw the rifle at Bob’s feet. It was an old hunting rifle, probably a 30.06 Remington. There was a lot of blood on the floor. Bob must have shot himself in the high gut area. A lot of people ended their lives in the bush, either from depression or alcoholism or both. Most offed themselves with a gun when they were drunk. Drink makes brave. Bob was brave most of the time, Moses thought.

  Moses was used to hunting, killing and skinning animals, so the blood did not bother him. Bob’s face, though, had a look of horror. His eyes were wide open and his mouth was agape. Bob’s skin had turned the same gray shade as most of his hair.

  Bullshit Bob’s gut was torn open, mostly on his right side, and some of his guts had spilled out like caribou sausage hanging to dry, speckled black with dried blood. Lots of torn flesh—a mess of Bob, for sure. The old chair was soaked black with blood. It looked he had been dead for a day or so, in Moses’s estimation. He had seen enough and told Snow he would get some help.

  He turned and bumped into Joe, beak to beak, knocking Joe’s hat cockeyed. Moses had forgotten Joe was still standing about an inch behind him, goggling at the gore.

  “Jezzus, Joe! Move the fuck out the way, will ya!”

  Snow was alone with Bullshit Bob’s body for a good thirty minutes before Stanley Beans arrived. Snow did not have any rubber gloves with him. He pulled out his well-worn calfskin gloves from his back pocket and slid them on. He pulled his right glove back off and checked Bob, who was cold as stone but not stiff. He was loose and pliable, starting to smell. Snow, too, had noticed the horrified look in Bob’s pasty eyes and the shape of his mouth.